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Wine Like a Girl
There they are, staring at me. Looking at me, anyhow, like a girl who´s had me many times before and knows that once again I do want to drown in her touch, in the ecstasy of caress, in her juices upon my tongue. There they are, perched calmly upon my bedside table, their legs crossed in flashy labels, their heads thrown back in taunting bottleneck repose, their eyelashes their patience fluttering in the sunlight which has -- just now -- drifted through the lazy grey clouds of morning.
Two litres of vino tinto and enough vodka for a couple easy tipples. Insideous sirens! They are trying to seduce me with their deliscious appearance, their bodies un-moving with the promises to yield to my desires, my gropes and clutches they will not deny, my mouth will they moisten happily, lustily.
Ha! You foul vixens whom lack morality, I know what you want to do. You want to change me, eh? Typical. Well, you´ll have to break me like a stud; I´ve got too many productive things need doing to start messing around with you two. You do look lovely today, though, I confess. Still, you won´t help me pay the rent, will you, you won´t help me find a job before Christmas, will you, and you sure as Time won´t let any flesh and blood nymph come between us, O, you jealous lovers of mine?!
Now they are sulking...they really look sad up there on my bedside table. All they want is my attention, to know my lips, my throat, my body. Now I feel bad. Perhaps just...just a little frolick...
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